One more time
by one-of-the-order01
Summary: Harry is disturbed when he finds out Snape fancies him. He soon realises that it was lust, not love, and that Snape is a lot more brutal in bed than he is in his Potions Classes...


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Harry Potter Characters, Merchandise, Books etc. If I did, I would be rolling in money and laughing at my success, not writing fan-fiction!

**Chapter one**

Harry sat in the History of Magic classroom, absent-mindedly fiddling with his quill as professor Binns droned on…and on…and on…

Ten minutes later, Harry opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them in the first place.

"Mr Potter?"

"Hmm?" It appeared he was being asked a question about some goblin or other so he simply said "Er – Grumpfer the Great?"

"Erm no, the correct answer was Humphrey the hunted." Phew. He'd dodged the bullet again. At least he had Quiddich to look forward to. He resumed his stupor, imagining all the moves he'd try out tomorrow at practise.

"Hey Harry!" It was Ron. "Alright if we walk to potions together?"

"Sure."

"Hey," he said in a hushed tone, "I want to talk to you about something."

"What?" Harry was intrigued.

"Well, I've been thinking it over and, I think I like Hermione." A pink flush rose to

his cheeks.

"That's great Ron, maybe now we can have a civil conversation for once." He said,

without looking at him.

"No, I mean _like_ like her." He blushed more.

"Aww, Ronny-poo's all loved up!" Harry punched his friend on the arm playfully.

"Shut up." Ron was now so embarrassed, his face was redder than his hair, which was truly a remarkable feat.

They entered the dungeon in silence and sat down at a table, conveniently next to Hermionie's, who was sitting next to Neville. Unfortunately, this was at the front of the class – within spitting distance of Snape, literally. Trust Hermione to be at the front of the class. As Ron gazed longingly over at her, Snape glided in, commanding the attention of everyone else in the room.

"Today class, I will be assessing whether you need a remedial potions class, will stay where you are, or whether you have the ability to be placed in my special fast-track potions class," he turned to Malfoy whose pinched face turned into a triumphant smile. "You will be making a Wiggenweld healing potion. A basic task, but for some of you who lack the slightest intelligence needed for this, it will prove difficult," he glanced at Harry who was carving 'Snape the greasy bastard' into the desk. Harry met his gaze steadily and ceased his 'work'.

They set up their equipment as Snape put the instructions on the board. They then went up to collect their ingredients and sat back down.

"You have one hour, starting…now!" Snape commanded.

Halfway through making his potion, Harry had to grab Ron's arm, before he put some highly explosive Dragon's brain into his cauldron before it had stood for thirty minutes. Ron was so intent on Hermione he didn't even notice. Snape swooped over, resembling an over grown bat and stood unbearably close to Harry, watching him with those dark eyes…he only just managed to stop himself from spilling the toad mucus all over his notes and regain his poise.

At last the hour was over and each student took a sample of their potions in a vile up to the teacher's desk for marking. Their potion was supposed to be an electric blue complete with vivid indigo sparks. Of course, Hermionie's matched the description perfectly. Harry, glancing at his own reasoned that it _was_ blue, a very pale blue though, whereas Ron's was deep green and was giving off a fowl odour, despite the corked flask. One by one, each student's potion was lined up on the desk and they had exited the classroom, hoping to make the most of a well-awaited break time. Only Harry was left.

"Ah, Mr Potter. Try to keep your eyes on the potion next time," Impossible! Had he noticed him looking at Snape? Wait – he hadn't been looking, had he? He shuddered at the thought and decided that he obviously hadn't, Snape just made him nervous so he thought things that weren't actually true. Yes. That had to be it.

Later that night in the dorm, Harry lay awake in his bed thinking about potions that day when Ron, Dean and Seamus staggered in singing drunkenly. He pulled back the curtains surrounding his four-poster as the threesome flicked on the lights.

"Where've you lot been?"

"Oh Harry mate," Ron hiccupped, "We were just at the Three Broomsticks…and… thought we'd have a drink or two…you know to…celebrate the…the…" at this, he fell over forwards, apparently unconscious, and with the help of Dean and Seamus who weren't so drunk, they hauled him onto his bed. Ron really was a lousy drunk.

The next day in Potions Harry sat at his desk, feeling quite confident about his exam the day earlier. Snape proceeded around the room in alphabetical order handing back potions with notes attached with their grades and comments on. When it came to Harry, he couldn't meet Snape's dark gaze without knowing why. Snape slapped the potion on the table and strolled off. Fingers trembling, Harry unrolled the piece of parchment attached to his potion. At the top in bold red ink was the letter "D" and "see you in remedial potions" scrawled almost mockingly in place of a comment. Ron glanced at Harry's score.

"75 out of 100 mate, shit! Boff! Wait, why'd he say to see him in remedial potions? I got 55 but I don't have that. Tough luck mate. Guess he really does hate you!"

Hermione leaned over and took a look.

"That's odd. Why isn't Ron going to Remedial Potions and you are, when he's got a lower score than you? Hmm." At that the bell went and everyone packed up their things and filed out of the classroom. Malfoy took a particularly long time and said rather too loudly, " I got 92/100. Father always said I had a knack for potions," when he had left, Hermione and Harry were alone in the classroom, excluding Snape.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "Can I talk to you in private? Meet me in twenty minutes in the library next to the restricted section." She hurried out and Harry, puzzled, shoved the rest of his things in his bag and followed suit.

Twenty minutes later Harry walked along the rows of books searching for Hermione and was grabbed roughly by the collar and dragged inside the row of books labelled restricted section.

"Hermione-" Harry protested.

"Shh!" she cast a silencing charm over them. "There. Now no one will be able to eavesdrop."

"Hermione, why did you drag me here?"

"Harry, don't you think it's a bit strange that Snape puts you in remedial potions, when you have a 75 score?"

"No, he's always hated me." He said logically.

"Yes, but not to this extent. I mean, this is a violation of the Hogwarts rules; rule number 167# '_No teacher will falsely tutor a student in a remedial class if no extra tutoring is needed_.' And besides, no one else was put in remedial potions," she lowered her voice, "not even Crabbe and Goyle!"

Yes he did find _that_ a bit strange – Crabbe and Goyle had more brain cells that a spoon, but that was about it. Even Snape wouldn't let _them_ pass, even if they _were_ in his house.

"But Hermione, why else would he want me in his class?"

"Think Harry. You're the boy who lived, and honestly, everyone thinks you're a bit of a – well – hunk!" she giggled.

"So you think Snape fancies me?" he shuddered. "I'm not even queer! And besides, he's a teacher and I'm…I'm a student! He wouldn't. He doesn't- "

"Honestly Harry, haven't you seen him looking at you?" Harry felt his jaw drop.

"WHAT?! NO!"

"Ok, ok, calm down Harry." There was silence.

"He does?" Harry said inquisitively.

"Almost constantly. It might just be me, but – I don't know Harry. You'll have to decide for yourself. Just – be careful. Please." With that she stood up and left. Harry sat there for a few moments, jaw wide open. Snape _liked_ him? Hated him – that he could handle. But _liked?_ He closed his mouth, stood up and decided that it must be Hermione's imagination, and Snape truly did hate him. But as he entered the Great Hall for dinner, he couldn't help but blush when his eyes met Snape's. God, Remedial Potions was going to be hell.

**Chapter two**

At least he had Quiddich practise to look forward to. What idiotic state of mind must he have been in to think that? The rain was coming heavily in icy sheets as the wind drove it hard into Harry's skin and drenching him to the core. Each droplet seared with pain, way beyond any grief his scar had given him and soon his was wishing his wasn't so good at Seeking. As he flew to the centre to begin the game, he heard Oliver shout something from the ground as he unleashed the four balls that began the game. A bludger sped towards him without hesitating and he sped away to look for the snitch.

A few minutes in, he spotted it; a glint of gold and a flutter of silvery wings. He leaned forward and surged after it, looping and weaving in and out of the other players. He was a few feet away but his firebolt just wouldn't go faster, it was as if something was attached to the end of his broom – pulling him back. The pull grew stronger and he watched the snitch fly away from him and as he watched it, he couldn't help but notice a tall figure with long black hair and swooping black robes with his arms raised at Harry, apparently casting some sort of incantation. As the pull suddenly increased, his broom stopped abruptly, nearly tossing him off, just as a bludger sped at the point where Harry would have been.

"SORRY HARRY!" Fred or George yelled. Six years and he still couldn't tell them apart. As he looked back to the stands, he saw the figure glance at him, and sweep away. _Snape? _Surely not. His mind was playing tricks on him again. Luckily, Wood bellowed something into the wind that sounded like "ALRIGHT GUYS! THAT'S IT!"

In the changing rooms, Alicia asked why Wood had called off the practise.

"Look team. I want to win the Quiddich Cup as much as the next Gryffindor, but we just can't handle the weather." But Harry was barely listening. He was still wondering about the mysterious figure in the stands. Who was he? Did he watch Harry at every practise, or did he just happen to be there to save him from a speeding bludger? He would have to tell Hermione, he knew. He just didn't want to hear her reaction.

As he trudged inside leaving muddy footprints all along the corridor, he couldn't help but duck off the main entrance hall and down the potions corridor. Snape's door was ajar. The temptation was just too great! Harry delved into his school bag and pulled out his invisibility cloak and slipped inside. Peering through the cloak, he noticed Snape wasn't in the room, but a door stood slightly ajar off to the right and steam was pouring out. Harry guessed that Snape was in the shower. He moved closer to the black robes hanging up on a stand, and noticed that they were drenched; a small lake was forming beneath them. Coincidence, or had Snape just felt like a gentle walk in the pouring rain? As soon as this thought crossed his mind, he remembered the figure in the stands. Oh shit. The shower had stopped while he was examining Snape's robes, and steam was no longer pouring through the door. He ran to the door but too late, Snape was already in the room and would hear Harry if he tried to leave. Instead, Harry slipped next to the wardrobe, opposite a lengthy mirror. Oh no. He'd left muddy footprints all over the floor! He quickly cast a masking charm over them just as Snape strolled into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, dripping from head to toe. Harry felt himself harden, and turned away ashamedly. Snape began walking directly at him, opened the wardrobe and pulled out a dry set of robes. He returned to the mirror, and gave Harry a full view of his defined face and sculpted chest (not that he was looking). Harry began to wonder why he hid himself under all those layers when he remembered that he _wasn't_ queer. Definitely. Snape dried himself off and pulled on his underwear and trousers. He then began to talk to – _himself?_ Harry barely stifled a snigger – just wait till Ron heard about this!

"Good thing I put that Potter boy in remedial potions, he seems quite dense." Harry smarted with indignation – he was not! "Obviously he's as bad in Potions as he is in Charms, perhaps I should suggest Professor Flitwick put him in remedial classes for that too." Him? Bad in Charms? He was top of the class, well Hermione excepted. "Yes very dense indeed; otherwise he would have realised I charmed this mirror to see through invisibility cloaks!" Snape whipped around and glided over to Harry, who was frozen in shock. He yanked the cloak of him and stared at Harry intently.

"Mr Potter. Do not enter my rooms again without permission," Harry reached for his cloak, but Snape yanked it out of reach. "As for your cloak, you may collect it tomorrow in Remedial Potions." Harry conjured the most petrifying stare he could muster without giving away that he was still hard as rock, even though he was scared shitless. He stalked out of the room as Snape shut the door quietly behind him.

Harry stormed into the common room and ignored Ron's "Where've you been?" and Hermione's "Are you ok?" He traipsed up to the boys dorm and flopped, still sodden onto his four-poster. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively.

"What." He replied flatly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"Nothing, I suppose, I just thought-"

"Yeah? Well you thought wrong!" He snapped. He yanked the curtains round his four-poster shut and tried not to feel bad about snapping at Hermione. He heard the door click shut and assumed Hermione had left. Still pissed off about Snape and remedial potions, he drifted to sleep.

**Chapter Three**

He woke up next morning after a fitful sleep and soon wished he hadn't. Saturday. His first Remedial Potions class with Snape. Great. He hauled himself out of bed, pulled off his sodden Quiddich uniform and pulled on some clean robes. Ignoring Ron's loud snores, he went down the stairs and into the common room, where Hermione was waiting.

"Morning." She said brightly, apparently not put off by last night.

"Hermione, sorry about-"

"It's ok. Listen Harry, I don't know but I don't think you should go to Remedial Potions." Hermione, telling _him_ to cut class?

"Er – Hermione, are you feeling ok?"

"Fine, it's just I was walking back from the library earlier on and Snape passed and he looked REALLY angry – even for him!" Oh shit. He _was_ pissed off about last night. Oh boy was he screwed.

At breakfast, Harry kept his head low over his food, as not to have to face Snape's penetrating glare. He wolfed down his bacon and toast and barley had time to chug his pumpkin juice when Snape stomped over and yanked him off his seat by the collar.

"Potter. Remedial Potions. Now!" Harry mouthed a silent 'help me!' at Ron and Hermione who stared disbelievingly back.

The dungeons were just as cold and uninviting as ever and Harry wished he had taken Hermione's advice and not come. Not like he'd had a choice though. Snape thrust Harry into a chair and strolled over to his desk. After a few minutes of no communicating, Harry plucked up the courage and asked;

"Er – professor?" he said tentatively.

"Hmm?" Snape looked up from his work.

"You haven't given me any work."

"Ah, I believe this is the first time you have actually shown any concern for your academic life. Very well. There are some books over there," he pointed to a shelf of books behind his desk, "Read through chapters 3 and 4." Harry walked over to Snape's desk and behind it. He reached up, stretching so far his jumper rode up past his naval.

"Oh for- let me get it." He stood up and Harry noticed he wasn't as tall and intimidating as he had once thought – only about three inches taller than Harry. As Snape handed Harry the book Harry felt surprisingly warm fingers brush against his own. Realising what he had just thought, he snatched the book from Snape, whose lips curled into that oh so familiar twisted smile. It was if he liked watching Harry squirm.

By the end of the lesson, Harry thought he knew everything he could possibly ever know, or would ever _want_ to know about the uses of flobberworm mucus. Snape looked at the clock behind his desk and declared it was time for Harry to leave. Harry, who had been ready to leave as soon as he set foot in the classroom, willingly stood up, ready to stretch his numbing legs.

"Before you go, Potter, I have a little homework for you." _Homework?_ Hadn't he suffered enough?! "Read through pages 120 to 130." Harry dragged himself up to Snape's desk and the Potions master disappeared into a side room. Harry was thinking about leaving when he reappeared with a large green book entitled 'Advanced Potions, book 1". If Snape thought Harry was such a dunce at potions, why was he giving him an advanced book? He held out the book for Harry to take, who moved reluctantly forward to collect it. Once again, he was unbearably close to Snape, whose lip curled once more. He held onto the book longer than was necessary and Harry glared. As he left, Snape whispered, "Take Care" almost so quietly; Harry wasn't so sure he'd actually heard it. He turned at the door and saw Snape, still smiling, watching him. He stumbled out of the door, and flicked to page 120. He read the title and immediately felt violently sick. He must have paled, because as he entered the common room, Hermione rushed over and ushered him into a chair.

"Harry what happened?" she said, concerned. He threw the book open on the table at page 120. Hermione read the title and gasped, "Love potions! Harry! We have to report this to a teacher! It's-"

"Homework Hermione. That's all the other teachers will see it as. And besides, I don't want them thinking I'm afraid of him or something." But the sick feeling was still there.

"But Harry-"

"Just drop it Hermione. I'm ok, really," he said stronger than he felt. He pulled some of his neglected homework towards him, but after a few minutes of Hermione glancing fearfully over at him, he stood up, pulled on his cloak and scarf and stepped out of the porthole.

He strolled out onto the grounds, the strong wind whipping his hair from his face and making his eyes water. He went into the courtyard and sat at the edge of the fountain.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring into space, but his hands were red from the cold and he was shivering violently. Snow was beginning to fall onto the windswept grass, covering it in a white blanket. He realised he was crying, and he blamed it on the wind being too strong. No matter how cold he was, he was NOT going back inside where that …that _person_ lay in waiting for him. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the thoughts buzzing through his head and fell into darkness.

**Chapter four**

Professor Snape sat at his desk, still marking work a good half an hour after Potter had left. Ha. Potter, he thought to himself. Yes he'd definitely given that boy a good scare. That would teach him to sneak into his quarters again. He put down his quill and strolled over to the window out at the white ground. He looked over at the fountain, and saw a large black lump in the ground, covered lightly in snow. He hadn't noticed that before.

"Hagrid not doing his job again I see," he said to himself, "That great oaf couldn't flatten land if he was a steam-roller!" he chuckled to himself. Wait – did the lump just…_move?_ He looked closer and, "Oh dear god," It was a student!!! He ran out of the classroom and out into the grounds, not bothering to pull on a cloak. He stumbled over to the figure and knelt next to it, clawing away at the snow blanket it wore. Oh god, it was Harry! His lips were blue and swollen and his cheeks flaming scarlet. Snape held his hands, they were as cold as ice, and tried to find a pulse. It was there, but very slow and weak. He scooped Harry up in his arms and ran inside.

Oh great. Miss Granger and Mr Weasley. Just what he needed.

"HARRY!" Granger screamed. If he weren't holding an unconscious student, he would have clapped his hands to his ears.

"What have you done to him you greasy bastard!" Weasley yelled. Despite his lack of grammar skills and common manners, Snape pushed past the pair snarling;

"Out of my way you two! Miss Granger," he paused, "Run to Madam Pomfrey and tell her to meet an unconscious student possibly suffering from hypothermia in the headmasters office. He sprinted up the stairs, round the corner, up more stairs. By the time he reached the headmasters office he barely had enough breath to pant,

"Cockroach…Cluster…" the stone gargoyle jumped out of the way and Snape stepped onto the spiral staircase. He burst through the door into Dumbledore's office and laid Harry on the floor, still gasping for breath.

The headmaster rushed over. "Albus…Harry…snow…outside…cold…" he gasped.

"It's ok Severus, you did the right thing. I'm sure Poppy will be here soon." He soothed. Even so, Snape crouched over the boy and shook him, trying to wake the student.

"He's still so cold," Snape said, after catching his breath. Seconds later, Ron burst through the door, wand at the ready.

"Step away from Harry or I'll…I'll…I'll hex you!" Snape sighed.

"Mr Weasley. Kindly lower your wand. If it weren't for Severus here, Harry would still be lying in the snow." Dumbledore reasoned. Ron, apparently seeing the logic in this lowered his wand slowly and went and sat next to Harry and Snape. A few minutes later, Hermione and Madam Pomfrey rushed in.

"Ah, Poppy. Mr Potter seems to have spent too long in the snow." Said Dumbledore, all too calmly. She bustled over, ushering Snape and Ron out of the way. Ron sat on the sofa, next to Hermione who buried her face in his shoulder. Ron, seeing this, stiffened, but relaxed again after his blushing fit was over. Snape however, straightened up, but remained standing.

**Chapter five**

Harry awoke coughing and spluttering on the floor of Professor Dumbledore's office, a warm liquid running down his throat.

"Warming Syrup. Works every time!" Madam Pomfrey surveyed. Harry sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings; the circular room, Ron, Hermione and – oh no. Professor Snape loomed over him, a little further back than Ron and Hermione though. Snape was staring deep into his eyes now, as if he could see into his soul. Harry flinched, but met his gaze steadily.

"What happened?" Harry croaked, shifting his gaze.

"Well Harry, it seems you went for a little wander in the snow and fell asleep. Nothing to worry about, I'm sure, but it's probably best if you stay in the Hospital wing at least over night." answered the Headmaster. Harry stood up shakily, helped by Ron and Hermione, and they walked him down to the hospital wing. Glancing behind him, Harry saw Snape, still staring ominously with his dark eyes, and Dumbledore wave jovially from the doorway.

Once in the hospital wing, Harry dropped onto the nearest bed and Ron and Hermione pulled up chairs next to his bed.

"What happened?" he repeated. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances.

"Well Harry," she began, "You were sort of – detached – in the common room and walked off into the snow and-" she stopped short as Harry interrupted.

"Yes I know about that part. I mean, how did I get to Dumbledore's office?" he said, dreading the answer. More nervous glances.

"Professor Snape – he – sort of…found you…and…carried you up there. But listen Harry, he saved your life and everything, so don't be mad or feel like he was…stalking you or something." She began stumbling over her words. Harry didn't need to hear more. He let his head fall back heavily on the pillow and looked away, a silent tear rolling down his cheek.

"Maybe we should go," Hermione bit her lip.

"See you later mate," Ron and Hermione stood up and left quietly. Harry didn't try to stop them; he just wanted to be alone. Wasn't there any way he could escape this nightmare? Was there nowhere he could go to be rid of Snape? He felt violated, wronged, even though Snape had barely done anything to him. Was he going mad? He couldn't tell anymore. He closed his eyes, sighed heavily and dropped off to sleep.

He was in Snape's chambers again, but this time, he wasn't under the cloak. He was alone, but then the potion's master walked in. He reached out and touched Harry's cheek, stroked it gently with his thumb. Harry couldn't help but flinch. Long fingers tilted his chin so he was looking directly into the other man's eyes. The cold dark gaze showed lust, so much so that Harry couldn't look away, much as he wanted to. He closed his eyes as the other man leaned in closer…closer…the room was spinning and he was falling into blackness. He awoke, drenched in cold sweat in the Hospital Wing. Thank God it was only a dream. Only a nightmare.

He could hear footsteps as a dark figure entered the room. He shut one eye, and squinted the other one, just enough to see by. The figure walked over to his bed and placed something large at the end of his bed. The figure stood for a moment, the darkness of the room shrouding his features and granting him anonymity.

"Sweet dreams, Harry," the husky voice whispered. There was no mistaking that voice. Even the cover of darkness couldn't disguise the Potions Master's tone.

Once the man had left, Harry sat up and drew his legs to his chest, burying his head in his knees. He breathed out heavily, wondering what would happen if he never breathed back in. Finally he gave into his body, gulping down lungfuls of air. He had to tell Hermione, but how could he? Revealing his embarrassing secret that he, the boy who lived, was afraid of a teacher. There was no way out. If he stopped going to Remedial Potions, he would surely anger Snape to extreme measures and how would he escape the torment of his normal Potions classes? Dumbledoor wouldn't understand, and Ron would just laugh. No, it had to be Hermione. God, he hoped she could help. If she couldn't figure a way out of this, no one could.

**Chapter six**

"Harry?" Hermione ventured. They were sitting out in the cold grounds after Harry's release from the hospital wing. A watery sun tried in vain to cast a warm glow through the clouds and the grounds were silent and deserted.

"Harry why are we here?"

"I think you know." He murmured.

"It's Snape, isn't it? Harry – is he – is he bothering you?"

"Not exactly, its just-" he looked away. "I'm scared. It feels as though I can't get away from him. If I try to run away, he's always round the corner, watching me with those eyes…I see him Hermione. In my dreams. My nightmares. He even came to see me while I was sleeping, in the hospital wing. He was returning my cloak from when I – I was in his chambers," he ignored Hermione's shocked face and continued, "I don't know what to do and you're the only one I can turn to." Hermione hugged him tightly, almost so that he couldn't breathe.

"I'm scared for you too Harry but – oh Harry I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do either. He's a teacher and his word counts for more than ours. Even Professor Dumbledore wouldn't understand. I'm so sorry," she repeated. Harry couldn't have felt any worse. Though talking had eased his burden slightly, he couldn't shake this feeling of being trapped, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Over the next few days Harry found himself looking for Snape everywhere. Round every corner he was expecting to see him. From behind every statue he envisioned Snape jumping out and grabbing him. But in all truth, it seemed Harry was seeing less and less of Snape, as if he were avoiding him. This rattled Harry even more and when Snape wasn't sitting at the teacher's table in the great hall one evening, Harry could take it no longer. He stood up and wandered out of the hall.

"Harry?" said Hermione questioningly. She and Ron exchanged puzzled looks. He headed straight for the dungeons, pulling out his wand as he did so. Storming down the dimly lit corridor, he rapped on Snape's door and entered without waiting for an answer. Snape was at his desk, bent over some paperwork.

"Mr Potter, what a pleasure it is to see you," he said mockingly, his lips curling into a smile.

"What do you want from me?" Harry yelled. Snape walked out from behind his desk and stood in front of Harry, but a hairs width away.

He saw himself reflected in the other man's eyes now, his own were wide and fearful, brimming with tears. "What do you want?" he whispered. Snape leaned forward and kissed him with surprisingly warm lips. Harry stood stiffly, pressed against the other man's body. Snape's hands ran down Harry's spine, gripping his arse firmly, making Harry shudder. He was crying now, tasting the salt on his lips. Snape pushed Harry onto his desk, scattering ink pots and paper everywhere. His tongue parted Harry's lips, exploring his mouth. Harry was petrified, pinned to the desk by the other man, unable to move. Snape's nimble fingers moved down Harry's shirt, unbuttoning it, stroking his chest with one hand, caressing his hair with the other. The hand on his chest moved to his waistband, unbuttoning his trousers, pulling them off. Snape's lips left Harry's as he stripped off his robe, revealing his naked body. His chest was smooth and sculpted, his legs lean and strong. Harry felt vulnerable on the desk, willing his legs to move, to run away from this nightmare. Snape lifted him off the desk and kissed him again, moving him towards the bedroom. Harry breathed in the other man's scent, and was sickened as Snape's bed came into view. He was thrust onto it with enormous force as Snape joined him, kissing and stroking him passionately. Either with fear or pain, he did not know, but Harry found himself falling once more into darkness, powerless against what was to happen next.

**Chapter seven**

Harry awoke in his bed, aching all over. What had happened to him last – _oh god no_. He had gone to Snape's chambers halfway through dinner. Visions of Snape moving closer and closer, kissing, touching, _feeling_ him flooded back into his head. _Why?_ Why had he let this happen? He must have passed out before – before the unthinkable happened. He couldn't remember anything after entering the bedroom, only a whispered warning; _Tomorrow, Potter._ Oh god. _Oh god._ He had to return. He knew that if he did not, Snape would hunt him down. He knew that. Snape knew that. He had to tell Hermio…no. Tell her what? That he had been well and truly fucked by a teacher? That would be a great conversation. Even so…Hermione had always been there for him. She wouldn't laugh, he knew that. He hauled himself out of bed and consulted his timetable. Oh shit. Potions. First thing. _And_ last thing. He _had_ to tell Hermione now. He couldn't bear to go through Potions alone.

He pulled on his robes and hurried downstairs into the common room. Hermione sat waiting for him, as she had for the last few days. He dropped heavily into the squishy chair next to her and avoided her gaze as she stared at him intently, studying him.

"Hermione- I think Snape – Snape-" he choked, fear welling up inside him.

"I know Harry, I know," she hugged him. They sat there for a few minutes, taking comfort in each other's arms.

"But look – I have to go back,"

"I understand."

They stood up and walked in silence down to breakfast. Hermione pulled a bowl of cereal towards her and pushed aside her issue of _The Daily Prophet_ aside for the first time since Rita Skeeta wrote lies about Harry in it. Harry on the other hand, didn't feel like eating, instead sat slumped in his chair staring at the floor. He was horribly aware of the Potions Master's eyes on him and sank even lower in his chair.

When Hermione had gulped down her cereal, most people had left and the two stood up just as the warning bell went. They sprinted down to the Potions classroom and skidded into their seats as Snape strolled into the room. Hermione clutched his hand supportively under the desk as Snape gave him a look. Not his normal heavy stare, but a knowing look, which made Harry feel sick to his stomache.

When the day was finally over Harry packed his things slowly.

"Harry should I-" Hermione said.

"Don't wait for me. I'll be ok. Promise," He gave her a shaky smile that was stronger than he felt. Snape's hand rested on his shoulder, waiting till she had left. Harry suppressed his want to vomit and clenched his fists. Snape span Harry round and kissed him again, licking his lips, round his jaw, forcing his tongue into Harry's mouth. Once again Harry was pushed into the bedroom, more forcefully this time, once again was Harry reliving this torture. He turned his head away from Snape as he began to undress him, willing himself to pass into the realm of unconsciousness once more. His body wilfully relented and the last Harry felt was the growing feeling of dread and Snape's caresses.

He awoke with a start for the fifth time in a row. It had now been two weeks since Harry's first 'meeting' with Snape and for five nights now, he had been having a recurring nightmare. He was in Snape's bedroom, but he was watching as if through someone else's eyes. Snape was beating him unconscious whilst violating his body. He saw himself thrown against a wall like a toy, crumpling on the floor where Snape pounced on him, kissing his lips, stroking his shaking body. For a while now Harry had been waking up with bruises all over his body, at least now he knew why. He could only remember being conscious for brief periods of time in their 'meetings' and these were enough to scare him shitless. Not only was Snape in his waking moments, but he was now haunting his dreams too.

Hermione seemed to have noticed a change in Harry too. She never asked where his bruises came from; he supposed she already knew, but she was always looking concernedly at him. Her brow constantly furrowed, her forehead already wrinkled with troubles way beyond her age.

The pain was getting so bad; Harry could hardly drag himself out of bed in the mornings, let alone pay attentions in classes. He inspected himself in the mirror. His once vivid green eyes looked empty and bloodshot, his jet-black hair limp and lifeless. His face looked pinched and thin and, seeing this, Harry tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. Pulling on his robes, he tried to ignore his body, black and blue all over, and searched for a place that wasn't bruised. He stumbled down the stairs and he and Hermione walked down to breakfast. As usual, he ate nothing and avoided the stares of the other students. They trudged out onto the lawn to their flying lesson, which Harry had long since lost the lustre for.

At lunchtime, couldn't help but think about his next encounter tonight. He made himself carry on until the end of the day when he dragged himself down to Snape's quarters. He opened the door slowly and stepped inside.

"You're early. Couldn't wait to get started could we? Well I won't deny you of your…fantasy…" Snape stood up from his desk and walked over to Harry, peeling off his robes. He stroked Harry's hair, as Harry stood stiff as ever, trying to ignore the voice screaming in his head. The only difference now though, was that instead of fear mounting deep in his very soul, he was possessed by pure hatred.

Snape practically dragged him into the bedroom but this time it was Harry's turn to take control. He pushed Snape onto the bed, breathing heavily. Harry saw the vulnerability in Snape's eyes as he lay naked on the bed and smiled inwardly. But he didn't have time to think when Snape shouted;

"RICTUSEMPRA!" a jet of red light shot at Harry, throwing him across the room and behind the sofa. He hid there for a few seconds, wondering why it had all gone so wrong. _No_. Said the voice in his head. This had gone on for long enough. He was tired, too tired. It had to end. Now.

Harry stood up slowly and stepped warily out from behind the sofa, raising his wand as he did so. He wasn't the frightened little boy anymore, he was a man. He glared at Snape, pure venom in his eyes and solid hatred brimming from his cold, hardened heart. He pointed his wand directly at Snape's heart and opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry…" he said.

"Har-" Snape started.

"AVADA KADAVRA!!!" He yelled with more feeling, more fury than he had even felt before. A jet of deep green light sped towards Snape, entwined with spiked branches of black. It hit him with such force that Snape flew backwards against the four-poster and it collapsed around him. Harry walked over to Snape's lifeless corpse, his dark eyes empty, a whispered name upon his lips. He stood there panting for a few seconds before the realisation of what he had done hit him. He collapsed on the ground, whimpering like a little boy again. He wasn't a man. He was a _murderer._ A few minutes later Hermione and Ron burst through the door. Hermione screamed, Ron staggered backwards and Harry cried even harder. They rushed over to him.

"Harry…What've you _done?_" Hermione gasped.

"I – don't – know - " he sobbed. She wrapped her arms around him and Ron laid his hand on her shoulder.

"I…don't…know…" he whispered again.

**Chapter eight**

Harry awoke, drenched in cold sweat. He was in his bed, awoken by a horrible nightmare. He was back in the graveyard but it wasn't Cedric lying on the floor, it was Snape and the high-pitched laughter wasn't Voldemort's, it was his own. The true horror though, was knowing it was more truth than fiction. He had murdered a teacher and was to be tried that evening, not that there was much point. He already knew his fate, he doubted even if Professor Tralawney couldn't predict this. He was facing a lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban Prison, a fate even Dumbledore couldn't save him from. But the worst part was that he _wasn't sorry_. A quiet tapping noise interrupted his train of thought and he jumped out of bed and opened the door. Hermione was standing there in jeans and a pink jumper. She pulled him downstairs into the common room, and checking the clock, Harry saw it was 3:49 am.

"Hermione what are you-" he started. Hermione pressed a finger to her lips to silence him and whispered.

"Harry, don't ask me to see you go to Azkaban. I don't think I could stand it," there were tears in her eyes, "She reached into her pocked and pulled out a gold necklace with a tiny hourglass on the end of it.

"The Time-Turner…" he breathed, "Hermione, you don't mean-" she nodded.

"I'm going to take us back to the 21st, the day you went to confront Snape. You can stop yourself from going, and you'll never have to go through this nightmare again." She hung the chain around the two of them and took the hourglass in her hands. She slowly began turning it over and over. Harry looked around at the blurry outlines of figures moving around him, the fire dying, re-lighting and dying once more. When Hermione stopped turning the hourglass, Harry checked the date on the calendar. It read the 21st November. He and Hermione looked at each other and they both smiled. Harry felt the hope flood back into his heart, the hope he had lost. He wrapped his arms around her as he felt the tears run freely down his face. Ron walked down the stairs and saw the pair crying hopelessly together.

"Harry what's wrong?" Harry gave a watery smile and shook his head.

"Nothing anymore. I have a feeling everything's going to be just fine,"

THE END

Sorry if you were hoping for some guy on guy action or something but the graphic, in-depth detail I've read in some of these fanfic's has disgusted me in so many ways!!! It's not as good as some fanfic's, but I'm quite proud at the way it turned out. COMMENTS PLEASE!!! ; - )


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